


The River

by greatresponsibilities (BlankPages2023)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:42:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankPages2023/pseuds/greatresponsibilities
Summary: Tony turned to continue swimming with the current. He heard a bang, a splash, and then Peter gasped. He whipped back around.Peter was struggling to keep his head above the surface, hands clutching at his side. “Um, Mr. Stark? I—I think I just got shot.”





	The River

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
This is the first-ever fic I’m posting, so let me know if it can be tagged better/described more accurately. I have a much longer Peter and Tony fic that I’ll consider finishing and posting if this gets a good response, so be on the lookout for that!

Tony dared to look over his shoulder into the trees behind them. 

“Did they follow us?” Peter panted as he ran next to him. 

“Don’t think so,” Tony said, slowing down. “Let’s keep our guard up for the time being, though, yeah?” 

They stepped out of the line of trees and found themselves on the bank of a large, slow-moving river. 

“The hell are we?” Peter asked, looking around. 

Tony squinted in the darkness, trying to make out more of their surroundings. “Upstate is my guess. We weren’t in that car for very long.” 

Tony caught Peter cupping his cheek and wincing. “Knocked us up pretty good, huh?” He said. He had a few bruises of his own. 

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Peter said, attempting a smile. 

Tony smiled back painfully. He hated that this was a normal experience for Peter. Getting kidnapped and dragged to the middle of nowhere by god knows who for god knows what wasn’t something he wished was a common occurrence for the two of them. Sadly, that hadn’t been the case recently. 

Something whizzed by Tony’s ear and lodged itself in a tree trunk to his right. He whipped his head around and saw several figures emerging from the blackness behind them. 

“Shit,” Tony whispered, pulling Peter behind a tree. “Brilliant plan, please present yourself  
now . . . .” 

“Um, okay, okay, how long can you hold your breath?” Peter asked, looking from Tony to the water and back. 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “That is . . . better than anything I’m thinking right now, let’s do it.” 

“Wow, really? It’s a pretty shitty plan, even by my standards—” 

“Just run,” Tony gritted his teeth, pushing Peter towards the river, following close behind. 

More bullets flew past them, hitting the water and sending up little splashes. Tony didn’t hesitate before diving straight in after Peter. 

The river was freezing, but the slow current pulled them forward, away from the people shooting at them. Tony opened his eyes and searched for Peter. He was waving at him and pointing down. They had to go deeper. 

The bullets sounded like rain as they hit the surface of the water, losing steam before they reached their targets and sinking down into the murky water. 

Tony’s lungs were screaming for air; he needed to go back up to the surface. The river had pulled them farther from the shooters, out of range. Hopefully. He propelled himself forward a bit more before shooting up from the bottom. He gasped for air and looked back to where they’d entered the river. 

The men had stopped firing into the water; they were looking over the bank, trying to spot either of them. Tony kept his head low, though the trees were thicker, closer to the edge, and provided more cover. 

A second later Peter popped up next to him and took a huge gulp of air. “Wasn’t that bad of a plan after all,” he said, pushing his wet curls off his face. 

“Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Tony muttered, eyes still locked on the men searching the water. 

Tony turned to continue swimming with the current. He heard a bang, a splash, and then Peter gasped. He whipped back around. 

Peter was struggling to keep his head above the surface, hands clutching at his side. “Um, Mr. Stark? I—I think I just got shot.” 

Tony’s heart lurched; he hooked an arm under Peter’s shoulder, violently treading water to keep them both afloat. “I got you, Pete . . . .” 

Peter groaned. He lifted a hand out of the water; it came up a watery red. He just stared at it. 

“Keep pressure on there, bud,” Tony said. His head was spinning trying to see who’d fired the shot. The guys upriver had retreated. Was there a fucking sniper up in the trees somewhere? His heart raced in his chest. 

Don’t shoot again, please don’t shoot again. Because if Tony went down, they were both going down, and he just couldn’t let that happen. 

“Did you—did you see who it was?” Peter asked as Tony dragged him towards the opposite bank. 

“Nope. But I think—think maybe they just wanted to slow us down, I don’t know.” 

“Here comes the fun bit,” Tony said once they’d reached the bank. He climbed up, careful to keep a good grip on Peter, and got his arms under both his shoulders and pulled. 

Peter yelped. “God, you know, you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Tony managed to say between breaths. 

“Yeah,” Peter started, face screwed up against the pain. “You’re not looking too fit yourself these days.” 

“I—will allow that.” 

There was a massive tree growing right into the bank of the river, roots visible and reaching straight into the water. Tony twisted Peter around and propped him up against it in an effort to hide him from whoever the hell had shot him. 

Peter shivered, teeth chattering, hands clamped around his lower right side. Tony knelt down beside him. 

“You gotta let me see it, kid.” Tony didn’t want to, but he had to. 

“I’ll be fine, just go—find help or something,” Peter said, coughing. 

“While I admire your bravery, you’re not really in a position to be calling the shots right now,” Tony said with a curt smile. 

Peter glared at him. Tony rolled his eyes and gingerly pried Peter’s hands from his side. 

Tony blew air from his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. “Went right through, huh? And from behind . . . cowards.” 

Now it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. He quickly covered it back up as well as he could. Tony watched as the blood oozed between his fingers, closed his eyes for a second to stave off the dark spots clouding his vision. How could he have let this happen? 

“Now are you gonna get help?” Peter asked. 

“Already got that covered. Here, take this,” Tony said, shucking his wet jacket off and pressing it to Peter’s side. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My suit,” Tony said distractedly. 

Peter stared at him. “You don’t have your suit.” 

“Exactly.” Peter was still staring; Tony sighed. “There’s a safeguard on the chest piece, when I take it off I have a few seconds to type in a code or else FRIDAY and Rogers and his gang get a little alert. And since I didn’t put in the code . . . Those goons took it off me what, an hour ago? Someone should be here any minute for us.”

Peter still looked confused. “Don’t worry, Pete, just trust me on this.” 

But Peter wasn’t even really looking at Tony anymore. His eyes had sort of glazed over, and he’d gone very pale, almost blue. He still had a death grip on his side, though. 

“Peter?” Tony said softly, waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention. It didn’t seem to work. “Fuck, Steve, where are you?” 

There was a rustling from the other side of the tree. Tony sprang to his feet as a man stepped out from behind it, sopping wet, pointing a gun at him. 

“Not another step,” the man growled. Tony started to put himself between the man and Peter. The man pointed the gun at Peter instead. “I said, not another step.” 

Tony fumed, but stayed where he was. The kid lifted his head at the noise but didn’t seem to know what what going on, or that some bastard had a gun trained on him. 

“If you think we’re going anywhere with you you’ve got another thing comin’, buddy,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off Peter. Peter started breathing strangely, quick and irregular. The man noticed; he looked vaguely interested. 

“I guess even superheroes can go into shock,” he said. “Should we see what another bullet would do?” 

“No, wait,” Tony said, panic slipping into his voice. “Wait.” 

“Yes?” The man asked, amused. 

“If you promise to treat him, we’ll—we’ll go with you.” 

“Bargaining, huh? I don’t think so.” 

There was rustling behind him but Tony didn’t have time to react: something hard rammed into the side of his head, throwing him to the ground by Peter’s feet. He fought to keep his eyes open against the dark spots eating away at his vision. 

Tony could hear two voices speaking, though they sounded far away. “You take Stark, I’ll take the spider,” one of them said. The other started to respond, but was cut off by a metallic clang, and then a thud. Something flew over Tony’s head. Another clang, and a thud. 

In Tony’s daze, he didn’t know what the hell was going on. He crawled towards Peter, attempted to shield him with his own body. He felt a hand on his shoulder, pulled away and covered Peter more. 

“Tony,” a familiar voice said. 

“Steve?” Tony hesitated and looked up. “What took you so damn long?” 

“Tracked your suit just fine, but by the time we got there you’d already escaped. Took a little while to find you.” 

“Amateurs,” Tony mumbled, rolling off of Peter and propping himself up next to him. 

Steve’s eyes widened at the sight of Peter. “What the hell happened to him?” 

Tony’s eyelids drooped. “Got shot.” 

“Well, shit,” Steve said, dropping down to his knees. He brought a finger to his ear. “Nat, I found them. Get Bruce to fly the jet in as close as he can, tell him to be ready to do some first aid.” 

Tony was almost gone. “Tell Bruce . . . went all the way through . . . in shock . . . .” 

“Tony? Tony.” 

Tony closed his eyes. 

The rocking of the jet jostled Tony awake. He was stretched out over a couple seats, and on the floor below him was Peter, an oxygen mask over his mouth and his shirt pulled up. Bruce knelt next to him, putting the finishing touches on the thick bandage covering his middle. 

Peter had a hand over his eyes. He was breathing deeply again, and a little color had returned to his skin. Tony sighed, relaxing. 

Tony tapped Peter on the hand covering his face. “How we doing, buddy?” 

Peter cracked his fingers, peering up groggily at him. He didn’t speak, just gave him a thumbs up. 

Bruce looked up too. “Tony, good, you’re up. I want to check you out, test for a possible concussion—” 

“In a minute, alright? Just make sure my kid’s okay.” 

Peter pulled the oxygen mask down a little. “I’m fine. For real this time,” he rasped. 

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up. “God, your aunt is gonna kill me.”


End file.
